


Turn a Blind Eye

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Charlie Weasley - character, Community: smutty_claus, Consent Issues, Drama, F/M, Ginny Weasley - character, Grief/Mourning, Intoxication, Sibling Incest, Weasleycest, reluctance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie had rules about women - never kiss when she's crying, never fuck when she's drunk - but none of those rules ever took this situation into account.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn a Blind Eye

When frantic pounding on his cottage door woke Charlie in the middle of the night, it was always about dragons. A violent fight between adolescent males, an overzealous female destroying her clutch, a fire sweeping too close to the home of a keeper. Always dragons. Never once had it been anything else.

But when the pounding came that night, a great and booming noise that rattled his windows worse than the sonic bursting call of the mature males in mating flight, Charlie snatched the door open and Ginny stood in front of him. Her thick hair straggled out of its braid and tears streaked her face, her skin shimmering in the light of the lantern hanging from the point of the eaves.

"Gin-" Charlie said, and that was all he could manage before she threw herself at his chest. She was speaking, but each word was choked and strangled and he couldn't understand a single one of them. He picked her up and kicked the door closed. Charlie carried her to the lumpy sofa and tried to put her down, but she clung to him, tight as scales.

Charlie turned and dropped into the sofa, Ginny curled up beside him with both arms around his neck. She buried her face in his shoulder and wailed. This close, Charlie could smell the whiskey on her breath. He cradled her in one arm and let her cry, waiting until her sobs faded to sniffles and hiccups. "Ginny," he said, when she'd settled into nothing more than quiet sniffs. "What's wrong?"

"It's my birthday," she muttered into his shoulder. She grabbed a fistful of the worn cotton shirt he always wore to bed and gave it a sharp tug. "It's my birthday!"

Charlie lifted his head and squinted at the calendar hanging next to the open arch that led into his kitchenette. Sometimes he lost track of days when he was dealing with one of the dragons, but around the square for August eleventh, there was a big red circle, with 'Ginny 17' written in the center. Charlie rubbed Ginny's back, her braid running over his knuckles. "Right, it's your birthday. Doesn't explain why that would bring you here in such a strop, though. What happened?"

Ginny wiped her cheek with the side of her hand and sniffed. "Fred."

Charlie closed his eyes against the sting of pain, Fred's death still a fresh wound for the entire family. He slipped his hand up Ginny's back and rubbed the nape of her neck, his head tipped forward to rest his forehead against her temple. "We all miss him."

"No," Ginny said, the painful whimper coming back to her voice. "No, you don't _understand_. Fred. It's my birthday and I was supposed to spend it with Fred. He was my favorite. We were _closest_. We were going to go out, and we were going to have fun, and now what am I going to do?" Her head drooped and she thumped it on Charlie's shoulder. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Who's going to love me now?"

Charlie patted her hair and exhaled slowly. "We all love you, Gin. You're a great girl. Brilliant at Quidditch, damned wicked with a hex. You're fantastic."

"No," she said in a quiet sob. "Who's going to _love_ me now?" She lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes swollen, rimmed with red, and filling with tears again. "Fred loved me. _Loved_ me, Charlie."

Charlie knotted his brows, not understanding, until Ginny slid her hand over his heart and leaned close so her whiskey-scented breaths hit his lips. "And I loved him."

The warmth and affection in Ginny's voice broke through Charlie's confusion. He stiffened, his hands falling away from her. He leaned back in the sofa, tipping his head away as he stared at her, wide-eyed and stunned. "Ginny, that's-- You don't know what you're saying. You can't _mean_ what you're saying." He swallowed hard and shook his head as if he could shake this moment out of his mind. "God, what are you saying?"

"He loved me," she said, her head bowed. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around her shins. "We ... we loved. We were in love. And now he's dead and it's my birthday and there's no one to take me to dinner and give me a kiss and curl up with me and _love_ me." She buried her head against her knees and burst into great, racking sobs. "And I can't tell anyone why I miss him so much because they'll flip like you're about to!"

She jumped off the sofa and spun around, her long braid snapping through the air like a whip. "Forget about it, Charlie. Forget about it, please! I didn't say anything, I wasn't here. Nobody was here. I didn't say anything. Forget it, please." She fumbled in her pocket, shaking and hiccupping. "Forget, just forget it. I'll go home and we'll all forget, okay?"

She drew her wand and immediately dropped it. With a sharp barking noise, she hit her knees and scrabbled for the wand, only knocking it further away. "Dammit!" She pounded on the floor with both fists. "Gotta make Charlie forget! Come back here, stupid wand. Come back. Come back! Don't leave me like Fred." She curled over her knees and cried. "Come back, Fred."

The plaintive sorrow in her voice pulled Charlie off the sofa. Despite the shock of her implications, despite the thoughts rattling around in his mind, he couldn't leave her there, sobbing on the floor and hurting. "Ginny," he murmured, crouching beside her and taking one of her hands. "Ginny, c'mon. Things will look better in the morning. Let me take you upstairs, put you to bed. You'll feel better in the morning, I promise."

Ginny looked up, a wild and desperate hope in her eyes. "Make me feel better, Charlie? It's my birthday." She leapt at him, knocking him off-balance.

They fell in a tangle of freckled limbs and red hair. Charlie's hands were on her waist and Ginny's hands were on his chest, and before he could gather his thoughts, she kissed him. She plastered her lips to his, kissed him sloppy and wet, the taste of whiskey sliding into his mouth with her tongue. Charlie broke away, shaking his head in refusal, but Ginny followed, with kisses pressed on his mouth and the side of his nose and the dark stubble along the edge of his jaw. "Take me to bed," she whispered to him. Her knees dug into his sides as she straddled him, rode his hips and his groin. "Help me, Charlie. Help me forget he's gone."

Charlie gripped her waist, pushing her up, but she clung to him like a broom. Her breasts rubbed over his chest as she peppered kisses down his throat. He pushed again, weakly, his mind whirling. Charlie had rules about women - never kiss when she's crying, never fuck when she's drunk - but none of his rules ever took this situation into account. As wrong as it was, as it _had_ to be, his body was responding. Ginny ground down on him and Charlie rocked up into her.

Ginny grabbed his head and kissed him, her hips undulating on his, and Charlie groaned, the sound rumbling low in his chest. He shouldn't. He _shouldn't_. But it had been a long, long time since any woman had touched him, and if he closed his eyes then she wasn't Ginny. She was a woman with strong thighs and soft breasts, and she wanted him. If he closed his eyes, she felt amazing.

Charlie closed his eyes.

He wrapped his arms around her and rolled, trapping her beneath him. Her hands slid up his back and she gripped his shoulders as he bent to her throat. He found the hollow where her pulse fluttered and he nipped at it, sucked on it. She arched under him, breasts rubbing against him. She whimpered and clawed at his back. "Please," she whispered, biting the upper curve of his ear and licking around the shell. " _Please_."

Charlie replied without words, both hands shoving beneath her thin shirt, over the lines of her ribs and up to her breasts. Small breasts, no bra, and he bit his lip to stop a groan. He rubbed his thumbs across her nipples, left, right, both, until they stood up in peaks against his palms. He spread his hands out, splayed his fingers wide. Her breasts fit entirely in his hands.

"Good," she said. She wrapped one leg around his thighs and pulled, urging his hips up to align with hers. "More."

Charlie wrestled her shirt off, then his, flinging both somewhere behind him to crumple by the wall. He lowered over her and dipped his head to her throat. Her pulse was wild beneath his lips and he moved down. Down to the narrow notch between her collar bones, down the slender valley between her breasts, down her flat stomach and the arches of her hips. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her jeans and shoved his thumbs through the empty belt loops to tug at them. "Off," he muttered, dipping his head until his fringe brushed her skin. "Off, dammit. Get these off."

She ruffled her fingers through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. Her hips lifted, the zip of her jeans hitting his nose. Charlie snorted and shook his head. He opened his eyes but kept his head bowed as he unfastened her jeans and pulled them down. If he didn't look.... If he just didn't _look_. Not at her. Not at her eyes.

Blue polka-dot knickers, black trainers, blue jeans, and white socks darned a dozen times over by Mum. His hands shook as he hauled all of it off her. He followed a trail up her leg from ankle to thigh, licking the pale skin between dark freckles. She spread her legs and her fingers worked through the auburn curls of her mound. The tip of one found her clit and she bucked against her own hand. "More, more, more," she muttered, free hand stretching up for him, reaching for him. "Help me. Make it better. You promised."

Charlie lifted his head and realized his mistake as soon as their eyes met. Eyes that were so familiar, hair a shade of red he knew so well. The pattern of freckles across her cheeks formed a broomstick on the left, a cauldron on the right. He remembered drawing them in ink one Christmas not long after she'd learned to walk, remembered how she'd shown everyone in the house with such merry laughter.

Charlie shuddered. He squeezed his eyes tight and grabbed Ginny's - No. _No_. The woman. She. Her. No name, not her name. - grabbed her hips and flipped her over, shoved her up onto her knees. She lowered her head and shoulders with a soft groan. Her hips swayed between his hands, inviting him to explore. Charlie drew two fingers down the cleft of her arse and into soft, wet heat.

She let out a moan, or maybe he did. He didn't know and couldn't care. He couldn't think.

Shouldn't, wouldn't think.

He pushed his fingers into her and she squeezed around him, gripping tight as if she could pull him deeper. Her hand fumbled next to his, then moved in a fast rhythm on her clit. Charlie pressed his free hand against his groin, rubbing his palm along the length of his cock. He scrabbled the drawstring of his pyjamas loose and reached beneath the fabric to lift his cock out. The head was already hot and sticky with pre-come and he trembled when he ran his thumb over it.

He lined up behind her, his knees holding her legs apart, one arm around her waist, one hand on the base of his cock. He rubbed the tip against the hot folds of her cunt. She wriggled and tipped her hips, soft moans and whimpers breaking from her. Charlie hesitated, his mind screaming at him one last time. She was drunk, she was vulnerable, she was his _sister_.

"Ginny," he said. He loosened his grip on her. He opened his eyes and forced himself to look. The long sweep of her back with the ridge of her spine. Her messy braid. Her narrow waist, the slight swell of her hips. The pink, pink flesh of her - god help him - her cunt, slick and shining and open. "Ginny, I can't--"

"Charlie," she said, his name leaving her in a slow whine. "Charlie, _please_. Don't leave me alone tonight." She looked over her shoulder, her cheeks shimmering with tears. "Don't leave me, too."

Charlie broke at the hurt in her voice, the pain in her eyes. He surged forward, grabbed her hips and jerked her back. Panting and swearing, he grasped his cock and pushed into her. She surrounded him, muscles gripping tight. Charlie held her hips and thrust.

Thrust and thrust, and he didn't think. He didn't think of anything except how wet she was, how hot and welcoming. How she grunted each time he drove deep into her, how her fingers brushed over him each time he withdrew. How she rocked back to meet him.

How _good_ it felt.

He dug his fingers into her hips to hold her still as he pounded against her, his bollocks swaying, her arse slapping his stomach. Charlie curled his shoulders and bent his head, opened his eyes to watch as his cock slid in and out of her. His entire focus narrowed to that, to _just_ that. Narrowed to the join of their bodies, to her wet cunt and his hard cock.

His breathing came rough, as loud in his ears as the roar of a dragon. Sweat dripped down his temples and neck. The pale, freckled skin in front of him was dappled with beads of sweat as well, and Charlie bent over to lick a drop from her shoulder. He traced circles over her back with the tip of his tongue.

She bucked against him, begging for more and harder and _more_. Charlie closed his eyes and gave it to her. Drove into her until she shrieked, her fists pounding on the floor as she came around him. Charlie held firm to her hips, kept driving into her. His blood thrummed, body tightening. Every muscle felt like stone, as hard as his cock as he shoved into her.

She shrieked again and collapsed flat to the floor, only held up by his grip on her hips. Charlie threw his head back and gave hard thrusts, one, two, three, and "Fuck!" He jerked, yanked free of her body, and fell to all fours over her. His cock pulsed and twitched as he came, thick white gobbets of come spattering to the floor between her splayed thighs.

She moaned. Her head moved weakly, slowly, her undone braid slithering across the floor. She turned onto her hip and rolled to her back. Charlie couldn't move as she reached up and twined her arms around his neck. He didn't resist as she pulled him down to rest beside her and her fingers drew formless shapes down his spine.

She nestled against his chest and tangled her legs with his. "Good," she murmured. "Thank you. Love you. Don't leave me, 'kay? 's my birthday, Fred."

Tears pricked behind Charlie's eyelids, melding shame and regret in his heart. Ginny drifted into sleep in his arms. He didn't open his eyes.


End file.
